Chapter 6: The Things We Don't Say
Night deepened.
Rain softened into a whisper against the window.
Isla sat on the edge of the bed while Rafe leaned against the opposite wall, eyes never fully leaving the door.
"You act like this isn't the first time," she said quietly.
"It isn't."
"What are you?"
He hesitated. "Someone who learned too early that danger doesn't announce itself."
She watched him. The tension in his shoulders. The way his hands stayed half-ready.
"Those men knew my name," she said. "And you weren't surprised."
His silence was answer enough.
"Rafe," she whispered. "What aren't you telling me?"
He pushed off the wall and stopped a few feet from her.
"That whatever you think your past is," he said slowly, "it's incomplete."
Her chest tightened. "Meaning?"
"Meaning people don't hunt ghosts," he said. "And someone has been tracking you for a long time."
Her throat went dry. "I've never seen them before."
"You weren't meant to."
She stood, closing the distance between them.
"Then why now?"
Rafe's eyes dropped to her lips, then lifted again.
"Because tonight," he said, "you finally stopped hiding."
The words sent a shiver through her.
"Is that what you think?" she asked.
"It's what I know."
The air felt charged again—different from fear, but tangled with it.
"Rafe," she said, softer, "if staying near me is dangerous…"
He answered without hesitation.
"I'm not here to be safe."
Their gazes locked.
And Isla realized with a sudden, terrifying clarity—
Whatever was hunting her…
So was he.